


Supposing

by Miri Cleo (miri_cleo)



Category: A Little Princess
Genre: F/F, Femslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-10
Updated: 2009-05-10
Packaged: 2017-10-02 09:18:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miri_cleo/pseuds/Miri%20Cleo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even after their school days, Lavinia maintains enough of a social connection with Sara Crewe to seem polite.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Supposing

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own them.

Lavinia’s eyes swept the room as the maid closed the door behind her. Shadows hung in every corner, save for the places the yellow sunset touched. She stepped forward to see the light falling on a pair of dainty slippers atop a faded tiger skin rug.

“Sara...” Lavinia watched the younger woman finger the lace at her sleeve. It was lily white—lily white during a time of mourning. Lavinia habitually smoothed her own appropriately black skirt.

Even though she never claimed to have any warm feelings for Sara Crewe, Lavinia was not fool enough to break the very tenuous connection with the heiress. Sara was rich and well liked, and it was good to be seen speaking to her at functions. She certainly donated well to the charities Lavinia had hand picked to champion after her marriage.

And now that Miss Crewe had become quite eccentric—just as Lavinia always thought she would—Lavinia knew she would be seen as awfully kind and generous to visit so often. There wasn’t much to the visits; Lavinia mostly listened, but Sara’s stories were not what they had been in school. Even then, when she had pretended disdain, Lavinia had been captivated.

“I was supposing,” Sara said at last. “I was supposing that he had taken me back to India. I could have taken care of him there, you know.” She had been talking like that since Mr. Carrisford’s death. But it was the distant look in Sara’s queer eyes that made Lavinia so uncomfortable.

“You mustn’t dwell on it,” she said quickly as she swept her skirt underneath her in sitting down. Lavinia remembered, just then, the way Sara used to lie on her tiger rug and stroke his head while she talked about India and her father. These moments, these visits were like that, but there was something more, something less savory in Sara’s tone.

Sara’s face lit with a doll-like smile. “No, one mustn’t. But it’s terribly difficult. You know, I was his princess too. I was truly his princess, and he was my prince charming. He saved me, but I could not save him.”

The longing in Sara’s voice was so unbearable that Lavinia stood again. The yellow light fell on her hands, but it was cold. “You must take comfort that he is with our Heavenly Father.” The practice phrase fell heavily in the silence that formed between them.

When Sara stood, Lavinia might not have realized it but for the creaking of the chair. She did not immediately turn.

“He and I were a comfort to each other.” Sara’s voice made Lavinia shiver. It was as if they had never left school, as if Sara had not grown up at all. “I think he loved my father as much as I did...poor man.”

Lavinia flinched when she felt Sara’s fingers on her shoulder, but she made herself turn. “They are both gone, Sara.” Her voice was hard. Was this not what she had predicted, wanted? Little Miss Sara Crewe had become close to mad; she was alone, and soon enough, she would be subject to gossip. Then Lavinia could stop the little charade, she reminded herself.

“I don’t suppose we could be a comfort to each other.” Lavinia did not shrink away from Sara’s cold hand reaching for her cheek. “Like you and Jessie were a comfort to each other once.”

Lavinia’s eyes went wide. “You...how do you know about that?”

Sara smiled again. “I saw you kissing her once, but of course you did not see me. Those were the days when no one saw me.” Lavinia was taller, but she felt almost as if she were looking up at Sara. “It was the only time I’ve ever seen you look...soft.” Sara cocked her head. “You looked very nice then.”

Lavinia pursed her lips. “The things girls do at school are best not brought into adulthood.”

She expected Sara’s lips to be as cool as her hands, and it was like a jolt when they were not. It had been so long since Lavinia had felt the touch of a woman’s lips. She remembered Jessie, how eager she had been, how easy she had been to bully into stolen kisses and more. Sara was slighter than Jessie had ever been, but Lavinia found, for once, that it was not so hard to forget reality. For a moment, as she pushed her tongue past Sara’s lips, Lavinia was lost in both memory and imagination.

“Don’t you see?” Sara asked, almost whispering, as she pulled away.

Lavinia blinked as she stepped back, out of the heavy air between them. The little princess, Sara Crewe stood before her—not Jessie. She pushed the memories away, forcing herself to focus on what supposing and imagining had done to Sara.

“I’ll come again next week,” Lavinia said coolly. The streetlamps glowed outside, but their yellow light was not enough to penetrate the room.


End file.
